September 6th, 2004

Sunday in the Park Without George

We're back from California. I should be in bed, but had too much coffee -- I drove the last leg from Yuma to Tucson -- and am sitting here wishing I were asleep.

I'm saving the details of our trip and the photos that might accompany their narration for Kim -- check out knicolini's blog tomorrow for the meat of the matter -- but can share a non-family image with you in good conscience:

Labor Day weekend is apparently not the time for sun safety. I saw so much bikini that my body started glowing in the dark.

That last sentence doesn't need parsing, does it? Good. It's nice to know one has world-wise readers who relish simple pleasures like cucumber sandwiches and the TLS.

  • Current Music
    A memory of Laibach

Tripped Out

knicolini has looked over the trip photos and made her selection, though the accompanying narrative was sparse. What can you say, though? We went both to the aforementioned Pannikin and the beach three times in twenty-four hours. Bean had fun deploying the $25 in spending money we gave her at the New Age kitchfest that is the Encinitas flea market and still had money left over to purchase a black panther from Pannikin's coffee-and-curio shop. The waves the first day were great for everything, including potentially treacherous body surfing out by the line-up, where I dodged the boardriders with a few other swimmers, including a teenager from Indiana who praised my technique as part of a disturbingly intense effort to befriend me. Speaking of Indiana, I bought Skylar a ninety-nine cent Hoosier State magnet right before departing I-10 for I-8 on the drive out. Now that's a score. We went to a different beach -- the one closest to Pannikin -- the second day and discovered that the surf was much, much rougher, though fine for Bean's shoreline boogie boarding, with a rip current that demanded inhuman exertions on the part of anyone who didn't want to end up two miles north. We all tired more quickly than we did on Saturday. This meant, however, that the sandcastle-building was more involved and the familial bonding more tactile:

Two things trip me out about this picture: 1) that my incisors look even pointier and less recognizably human than usual; and 2) that Bean, aware that I was trying to take a picture of the two of us together, made a deliberate expression that is not one of her typical faces, indicating that she was using her reflection in the camera lens to refine her pose.

As Kim's own entry about our trip indicates, she spent much of her time contemplating what it would take for her to move to the Encinitas area, having decided that she actually prefers San Diego County to her native Northern California beach country, since you can swim in the ocean without freezing to death. She alternated, in other words, between wave-drenched bliss and waves of bitterness inspired by the realization that short of selling her soul -- or selling me out for a less financially challenged partner -- her chances of becoming an owner of property on the California coast were not high. That's the hard part with our short trips to the Golden State. When we go for five days or more, Kim's desire for the domestic starts to overwhelm her dissatisfaction with life in the landlocked desert. The briefer the trip, however, the less she feels the need for a return to normalcy. Not to mention that Tucson looks a lot better in November or March than it does on Labor Day.

Well, it's time to hit the "bagel place" -- Einstein Brothers on Ina -- for sustenance and then proceed mallward to find new sandals for Skylar. Enjoy your surrogate May Day and remember how little the Republican Party respects the hard work of ordinary men and women making less than $100,000 a year.

  • Current Music
    the sound of exhausted frustration in the other room